My scanner is like.. utter crap. I tried to salvage it but… it’s still dark in spots it shouldn’t be. idk. *shakes head* even if i scan a flat piece of paper it still has dark spots. *shrugs* Front Page of my Sketchbook.
Pidge had looked down one day, Lance’s older brother instinct had kicked in, and he’d ended up spending twenty minutes trying to string a pretty green stone he’d picked up on a piece of string. Any normal person would’ve just given it to Pidge directly, but Lance thought it’d be more fun to hide it somewhere and wait for Pidge to find it. She’d walked out of Green’s hangar the next morning with the stone around her neck and a smile on her face, and well. It spiraled from there.
Victoire rolled her eyes, “We’re all right ‘ere, Teddy. You don’t need to shout.”
“This is the very important first meeting of the-” Teddy hesitated and bought time by climbing up to stand on the empty teacher’s desk in the classroom they were meeting in, “The Cupid Club!”
“That is an 'orrible name,” Victoire frowned.
Daisy and Saanvi giggled, leaning into one another.
“Whatever,” Teddy said dismissively, “We can work out a better name later. The important thing is, we’re all here for one united purpose!” He paused to gesture dramatically and the other students stared at him, Daisy and Saavi giggled.
Teddy sighed, “You could show a little more enthusiasm, you know!”
“Should we clap?” Peter asked.
“Get on with it, Ted,” Victoire prompted with an exasperated smile.
Teddy said, “Fine. So, we’ve all seen my cousin and godfather, the illustrious Professor Potter and Professor Malfoy, flirting-”
“Insults really don’t seem like flirting to me,” Victoire said. To try and quell Teddy’s puppy dog expression she added, “They do look good together.”
Saanvi sighed, “Have you seen how Professor Potter smiles when Professor Malfoy talks with him?”
“He just lights up!” Daisy said with a giggle, “It’s the sweetest thing.”
“But what about Professor Malfoy?” Victoire said, “ 'E is always sneering and smirking at 'arry.”
Who the hell was that first fuckboi who suggested that Sherlock is in madly love with Irene after reading A scandal in Bohemia. I wanna make a time machine someday just to go back in time and hit him on the head with the compact volume of ACD canon.
happy valentine’s day, just barely! here’s a little drabble that wouldn’t leave me, hope you enjoy <3
“Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?” Katniss asked the back of the man’s head, her eyes already scanning the room to make note of the new patrons she still needed to greet. A steady flow of customers through the tasting room was keeping her busy–not that she was complaining. Not much, anyway.
The man turned around, and she snapped her gaze back to him, a polite smile fixing itself to her lips. “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He smiled, and her expression froze as she got a look at his face for the first time. “Hey, Katniss.”
It took an embarrassingly long moment for the synapses in her brain to fire, and her smile slipped. “Oh–Peeta?” Why she phrased it like a question, she didn’t know. Of course, it was Peeta. She’d recognize that face, with those blue eyes and that sweet smile, anywhere. She just hadn’t expected to see it here. “Oh my god–what–I mean, hi. Wow.”
He laughed slightly, and she felt herself blushing. She shook her head, forcing a laugh too. “I’m sorry. How are you?” she asked awkwardly. She wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol for greeting an old high school classmate who’d existed mainly on the periphery of her acquaintances. The last time she’d seen him was graduation 10 years ago.
“I’m good,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “I just wanted to check this place out. I, ah, saw your post about it on Facebook.” He looked sheepish when he said that, and she blinked. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that–the fact that he could, and did, apparently, read her posts on Facebook. She’d accepted his friend request years ago in college without much thought; they weren’t friends or anything, but she’d received numerous requests from people she barely knew from high school over the years, so it hadn’t seemed too strange. Some–actually, probably most requests–she’d declined. She hadn’t seen the harm in adding him, though. She didn’t know him well, but Peeta Mellark was nice. Funny. Popular. College wrestling champion two years in a row, or something like that–not that she was keeping tabs. He’d regularly show up in her feed over the years, even though they never interacted.
Since she barely used Facebook these days, it just didn’t occur to her he would ever see anything from her.
“Right, of course,” she said with a dazed laugh. “That was the point. Um, thanks for coming. That’s–that’s really nice of you.” She folded her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and not sure what to do with her hands. They were trembling slightly.
Peeta pressed his lips into a small smile, his eyes darting around as he surveyed the room, the people milling around them. “This place looks incredible.”
She wondered if she was ever going to stop blushing at this point. “Thank you. I mean, most of the groundwork was already laid.” She took a deep breath, not wanting to launch into that story. If he’d seen her post, then he’d already learned of her efforts to revitalize her family’s old vineyard, which had been in disrepair since her father’s death more than a decade ago. “Let me get you a menu.”
He nodded while she grabbed a paper menu from a nearby table, holding it out for him. “We do glasses and bottles of the wines listed here, but we also offer a tasting where you can sample seven of our wines. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend that.” She stopped herself and laughed, shaking her head. “Which, of course you haven’t. This weekend is the grand reopening. I just mean–that’s probably what you want to do.”
His eyes flicked up to her from the menu, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
“Sure. Just find a seat outside if you’d like, and I’ll bring the wine to you,” she said with a vague gesture toward the patio, already turning away to scurry to the bar. She needed a moment to compose herself, inexplicably rattled.
It was just…Peeta. Mellark. Here. To see her. Or rather, to see her vineyard, but it was her vineyard. And he’d come because she’d made a post on Facebook proudly announcing the reopening of Everdeen Vineyards, after three years of planning and toiling and fermenting wines until they were just right.
taehyung x reader •
explicit descriptions of sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk •
words: 7,960 →
you meet the gaze of an incredibly attractive red head at a music bar and one
thing leads to another…
I tend to chew the inside of my bottom lip when I’m nervous or anxious. Right about now, it’s raw, almost numb, if that’s gives you a clue about how I’m feeling.
This morning when I woke up, I made oatmeal & let it sit until it was too thick & sticky to pick up with a spoon. I poured some milk in the bowl, watched the white trickle through the hills & mounds of oats, and had flashbacks of you biting your lip. That’s the face you’d make before you’d pull out & come on the sheets, my back or my stomach; like I was some porn star; like you didn’t caress my face a half hour earlier and tell me I “got the kind of beauty needs to be felt.” You remember how I reacted the first time you did that? Me neither, it’s fine.
I knew I had fucked up when you did that because you never asked if it was okay or cool; you assumed. Like I assumed that you really cared about me; that you were capable of loving. But that’s neither here nor there.
Somewhere between there and here though, I was late. Somewhere between my house & the drugstore, I realized that I was alone. Somewhere between my heart & my head, I decided that a baby isn’t something I needed or something that you’d want. Somewhere between my front door & the clinic my eyes started pouring and so did the sky.
This isn’t even for you. This is for me. Even if it was for you, you wouldn’t get it. By get it, I mean both understand and receive it.
I don’t want you thinking that you mean anything to me; because you shouldn’t even have to think about that. You could call now and I know I’d pick up desperately like you had something I need; because in actuality you do. I’m not exactly sure when you took it or if I gave it to you, but I know you have it. Picked it up right around the time you picked your boxers up off your bedroom floor and asked me how I was getting home. I could never make a home out of you, because men like you don’t have good foundations or sturdy walls. Your roofs leak and I’ve never been good with my hands. Any levelheaded girl would know that you needed more than just a fresh coat of paint.
I used to blame your father for leaving your mother, then your mother for leaving you be, then myself for not blaming you. But in life, you make choices. You chose to let your scars cut you again and again; to let the pain in; to let it stay. You chose to suffer.
I chose me.
The medical assistant told me it’s okay to have second thoughts. She doesn’t know this is the third clinic I’ve been to in four days. It’s not a question of whether or not I can do it. It’s a question of whether or not I want it to happen. When it does, we’re really over & I’m not sure if I’m okay with that. I’m not sure I’m even okay at all.
A smart girl would have left. She wouldn’t have had a reason to leave because she wouldn’t have come in. She wouldn’t have stay long enough to see the way you throw your head back in laughter whenever your niece dances, how your eyes squint when you smile too hard, how you crack your knuckles when you’re uncomfortable, how you breath deeply when you have to think of lie. She wouldn’t have seen you flinch the first time she reached out to touch you while you laid in bed staring into the darkness.
It’s hard to pinpoint the moment I realized I loved you. It wasn’t easy for me to admit it to myself; loving someone who proclaimed themselves incapable of love. We’d lay together, legs intertwined in a comfortable silence with your phone plugged into one of your homeboys portable speakers playing some R&B playlist you found & you’d say “you know I can’t give you what you want right? It’s what you deserve, but I just don’t think you’re gonna find it here.” What I wanted was for you to shut up.
Truthfully, I don’t regret loving you. It taught me patience & strength. Those are virtues I’m sure will be useful sometime in the future, when a child that isn’t ours won’t stop crying at 4 in the morning & I have to be up at 6.
I heard somewhere that true love is giving without the expectation of receiving. I never believed in that until you. That kind of love can’t be true though. It’s destructive, malicious even, & leaves you with a hollow chest that no amount of deep breathing can fill. The thing is, people don’t realize that you can only give what is being taken. You took my love. Honestly, if I was you, I would have to. You made me understand why hate & love are so often mistaken for each other.
You used to say I was stupid over you and I’d blush, shove you playfully, and tell you “stahpppp it” like it was a compliment; not knowing that I’d just confirmed everything you just said. It was stupid of me to think I could teach you how to love when you gave me no indication that you even wanted to learn. Stupid of me to think that I’d be the one to change you, when no one has ever changed on the basis of someone else wanting them to.
I used to go to your house when you weren’t around & sit with your mother at the kitchen table with the four mismatched chairs, hoping she’d break & tell me what I needed to do to make you love me. No one knows you better than your mother…..isn’t that what they say? I’d tell her about our arguments, things you’d said just to hurt me; to make me leave & she’d file her nails or busy herself with making some coffee. She’d clear her throat or suck her teeth, like something was stuck between them; like the truth. One day after filing her nails until perfectly round, pouring three cups of coffee and letting them sit until they were cold, she turned around to face me while leaning against the kitchen counter & folded her arms. “You know it’s true what they say…that books can’t teach you everything.” she said, looking at the floor. She looked up at me and continued “Because if they could, you’d be smart enough to see that my son doesn’t deserve a girl like you. Hell, I’m his mother and I love him, with all of me I do, but I know he’s never gonna be the man I want him to be….the kind of man you deserve. Why are you still here? You’re always here. He’s knows you’re here & he’s not even here! Doesn’t that tell you something?” She let out one of those laughs, the kind you let out when you’re convinced that what’s happening can’t be real; that it has to be a joke in order for it to make sense. I didn’t have an answer for her. Instead I moved my foot back & forth across the corner of one of the linoleum tiles on the kitchen floor that had started to lift. It made this low scraping sound that I pretended I didn’t hear. “These floors ain’t no good.” she said after realizing where the sound was coming from; “I swear any day it’ll give way right where you’re sitting.” and all of a sudden my foot stop moving because I know she wasn’t talking about the floor anymore; you remember what I said about foundations.
The chairs in the waiting room are cold & the plastic on them grabs on to your legs like it knows your secrets; what you did. I decided to stand after about 10 minutes of sitting. Nobody in the room wanted to be there. You could feel it. The receptionist kept checking the clock, then counting the people waiting with these sweeping head nods that scan the room. The medical assistant would walk in from the back of the office & sigh before calling the name of the next patient. One of the girls looked like she could be your cousin but that’s unlikely; your aunt had her on the pill as soon as she turned 15. “Listen you gotta take precaution with these young girls. I’m too young to have a grandchild & so was my mother when I had her.” I overheard her say one day when you left me in your bedroom to take a shower. It was summer time and we had just finished fucking. My skin was sticky and you’d just pushed me off of you to go shower. I turned over & laid there, letting anxiety set in. You came back in, still wet around the shoulders with the towel gripping your waist, & told me I should go home with your back to me. You were looking in the mirror brushing your hair toward your forehead. I went to the bathroom before I left; ran the water for a couple of seconds, cupped it in my hand and slushed it around my mouth, listening to it crash against my teeth and swollen bottom lip. You & blood never tasted good together.
You gotta understand that I never understood you. Now I know that it’s because there was nothing to figure out; to understand. Sometimes it’s easier to think someone is hiding some part of themselves from us; that we can get to that part if we stay long enough. In reality, it’s our own secrets & insecurities that make us believe that everyone must have them; that no one is truly transparent about their feelings. You were. When you said you couldn’t give me what I want, it wasn’t because you didn’t think you could. It was because you didn’t want to. In all honesty, I wish I could be like you; walking the earth needing & wanting for no one. Your mother told me you said you stopped saying “I love you too” when you realized that you were just saying it as a response & not because you meant it. It was never just a response for me.
They ask you if you want to see the embryo before you have the abortion. How stupid is that? Why would I want to see what I’m about to kill? So I can hate myself more? So I can think about not going through with it? Whatever the reason is, I declined the offer. It’s bad enough I dreamt about the baby ever by night. I imagined it’s face every day while I washed the dishes with my mother sitting at the kitchen table behind me, half watching/half staring at the news on the tv in the living room. “Why are you so quiet lately? You barely laugh when your brother tells those corny jokes you love so much.” she said once while she was waiting for the microwave to finish heating up her leftovers from the night before. I brushed her off, telling her I’ve just been thinking about “life”; you know like how mine would end if I told her I was pregnant.
She would have my eyes but your eyelashes because mine never curled up to the sun the way yours did. He would have your long legs but my muscles because you could never lift anything. She would have my shoulders because they’re the kind you can lean on. He would have your smile because it’s the kind that’s contagious. She would have my tenacity but your honesty because that’ll take her far, I think. He would have your curiosity, but my precaution. Then again that never helped me with you, so perhaps not. She would have my determination. He would have your arms but my hands because I can touch things and people without breaking them.
After they finished they asked me the obligatory “How are you feeling?”. I said I didn’t know because I honestly couldn’t feel anything. Physically, I felt the same as I did the day you didn’t pull out in time. I remember you breathing heavy, whispering “Ughh Shit!!” into the crook of my neck where your head always ended up. “My bad.”, you said after you’d caught your breath and for the first time I pushed you off of me, because it wasn’t your bad; it had never been your bad. It was always mine.
Lydia was having a party tonight and you decided to skip out on it. You’d been to all of her parties before and you just weren’t feeling up to this one.
You were lying on your bed doing the reading for English when your phone went off. You picked it up and read the name on your screen. Stiles.
“Hey, what’s up?” You asked as you sat up, the bed squeaking underneath you.
“Heeeeeyyy, Y/N!” He yelled and you pulled the phone from your ear, cringing.
“Stiles, it’s after midnight.” You mutter, trying not to wake anyone else in the house.
“I know! I just think you’re pretty and I thought I’d call to tell you.” You blush at his remark. “Oh! And I need a ride, Scott went home and I can’t drive because you know….” He lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “I’m drunk.”
You roll your eyes and stick a bookmark in your assignment before slipping on your shoes.
“I’m on my way.” You grab your keys and head for the front door.
“Stiles, go wait outside for me.” You say as you get in your car.
“Okay! Thanks, Y/N! I love you!”
“I love you too, idiot.” You chuckle and hang up.
You pull up to the party and scan the front yard. No Stiles. You call him and he doesn’t answer. You look down at yourself and what you’re wearing and sigh. A tank top, athletic shorts, and converse. You shrug and pull the keys out of the ignition and head inside, scanning every room for the dark-headed boy. You spot him going upstairs and you run after him.
“Stiles!” You yell and he turns to look at you.
He waves and runs upstairs like a small child. Great. You run after him, chasing him into a bedroom.
“Mieczyslaw Stilinski.“ You say authoritatively. You put your hands on your hips and give him a look.
“What?” He says innocently before grinning. “I’m sorry, I just want you to party with me!” He dances his way over to you, making you laugh. He grabs your hands and pulls you to him, moving his hips against yours.
“Stiles.” You warn. “I have to get you home.”
“No, I can’t go home.” He pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes.
“Then you’ll sleep at my house.” You say and grab his hand tightly you pull him downstairs and out of the house. You help him into the car and get in on your side.
“Stiles put your seatbelt on.” You say as you put the car into gear. He buckles up and you head home.
“Y/N.” Stiles says quietly.
“Yeah?” You turn to look at him, pulling up to a red light.
“You’re a good friend.” He smiles and looks at you, putting his hand on top of yours on the steering wheel.
You return the smile and take off when the light turns green.
“Thanks, Stiles.” You look at his hand on top of yours.
“We’re here.” You say and you both get out, you leading him inside. “Be quiet.” You whisper and he nods.
You leave him in your room and you go to get him some water. When you return he’s knocked out on your bed.
“Stiles.” You whisper, shaking his arm. He grunts in response.
“You need to change.” You say, sitting beside him on the bed.
He groans and sits up, taking his shirt off. You take it from him and you grab some clothes from his drawer in your dresser. You take his shoes off of him and he takes his pants off, lying back down.
“Stiles…” You sigh. “You have to get dressed. I’m not sleeping with you half naked.” You look at him, his eyes already shut and you shake your head. You are going to sleep with him half naked.
You wake up the next morning and you roll over to see Stiles watching you.
“What?” You sit up and look at him. You reach over him and grab the water and an aspirin before handing them both to him.
He takes them and continues looking at you. “Did we…” He points between the both of you.
You laugh and nod. “Yeah.”
His eyes widen and he bites his lip. “Awesome.”
You smack his arm and shake your head. “I’m just kidding! I brought you home and you knocked out.”
“Oh.” He laughs and takes the pill.
“To be fair you did call me pretty.” You say as he rubs his temples.
He grins and looks at you. “A drunk man always tells the truth.”
Word Count~ 2605 Rating~ R - NSFW - NOT APPROPRIATE Warnings~ Uh, smut and language Pairings~ Stiles x Female Reader A/N~ Hey lovelies, this is my first smut, so I’m sorry if it’s not good. D= Please give me feedback! It would be great. This is kind of just like a ‘hey I’m back’ kind of thing. I’ll be trying to put up at least one thing a night, but school is just a pain. It’s spring break right now so, I should have some stuff out. I don’t know. JUST ENJOY PLEASE! Request~
Anonymous said: 17, 22, 35, and 44 please with Stiles Stilinski and make it smutty!!
P.S. I couldn’t fit the last one in. I didn’t know how to add it.
“does that feel good” “don’t call me ‘princess’, asshole” “is that my shirt” “I’m not that flexible”
Summary: As a young child you came in contact with an entity. It possessed your body and gave you unthinkable powers. You managed to keep your power hidden for the most of your life, but one day everything goes wrong and you get on the radar of The Avengers.
Word Count: 1.328
You walk down the street with your hood pulled over your head, shadowing your face from the world. You keep your head low and scan your surroundings.
Ever since you have been living on your own you have been wary about everything around you. You felt unsafe and had the feeling you were being followed where ever you went.
You picked up your pace and maneuvered through the busy street of New York. You were close to your appartement building, your safe heaven.
Genre: Mostly fluff Words: 2,722 Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Rape mentions (pls don’t read if this will trigger anything & also i’m here to listen if anyone needs to talk) Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do when traumatizing events result in your witty remarks dying down to nothing.
“(Y/N), how have you been feeling lately?”
You took a deep breath, letting your body relax in the seat facing your therapist. You had been seeing her for about four months now, starting a couple of days after you put a pause on things with Bucky. Tony had set the meetings up for you, and he had said that this woman was the person he went to when he went off the rail from his own problems not too long ago. She was amazing at her job, he had said. And you couldn’t disagree.
You felt a genuine smile spread across your face as you nodded your head slightly in glee. “I feel great.” You informed her of how your nightmares that had occurred a couple of times per week now only invaded your sleep maybe every other week if you were stressed. You told her about how you were learning to lower your walls around people and about how you no longer needed to establish boundaries with your teammates. You told her about how you had been happier lately, learning to enjoy the little things in life that you had let go of before. You now felt excited when you smelt a surprise breakfast of pancakes being cooked while making your way to the kitchen in the morning. You laughed with your teammates at corny jokes and comedic movies. You participated in game nights and had fun while doing so. You started smiling, once again. And you weren’t the only one.
Bucky had watched you from a distance with loving eyes. In the beginning of your break, he had been miserable, and you could tell. You both were. But it had paid off. There were sleepless nights when you could barely breathe over your sobs and Bucky could barely think over the sounds you were making. There were times when you wanted to say fuck it and crawl into his waiting arms. But the two of you endured.
This is my ultimate fantasy. I have a lot of fantasies about ocean related things with Harry, or anyone - but this, by far, is my ultimate fantasy. Enjoy ;)
Rating: M (Smut, Daddy)
The evening was hot and muggy,
the hair that you had spent hours on earlier today when Harry announced that he
wanted to go on a date that evening starting to stick to your now sweaty neck,
regret filling your mind about how long
it took, and how it will probably go up in some sort of hair tie pretty soon.
Trying to find relief you tilted your head backwards and let the strands dangle
to the middle of your back, swaying your head back and forth gently to let any
type of air in the thick humidity hit the back of your neck. Your eyes slid
closed for a minute when air hit your neck, shivers running up your spine. For
a minute you thought it was pure luck, like the heavens were listening, but a
split-second later you realized you knew where this stream of air was coming
from. Your eyes opened halfway and you looked to your right, to the source of
the air, and they landed on a set of perfect raspberry red lips, wet from the
drink he was sipping on in a shape of an O.
happen to have a hair tie, do you?” you groaned and bit your lip, glancing at
the top of his head that was still adoring his Dunkirk hair, the shaved bits
were now growing back into his beautiful curls. They were not long enough for
him to pile any sort of tiny bun on his head, but you still had hope. For a
month or two after he chopped it off for charity and it was buzzed for the
movie, there was still a hair tie lingering in his pocket or on his wrist out
of pure instinct and familiarity. It took him another two months to figure out
that he wouldn’t need one, finally ditching them. You thought that maybe if he was growing it back, the
hair ties would come back.
at his wrist, brows pulled together as his arm twisted around and he pouted
out, shoving his hand in one pocket, then the other one. He looked at you with
sorrow in his face, grabbing at your locks and wrapping them in a circle
between his index and thumb finger. Leaning in he blew another stream of air on
your neck, the pressure of the wind getting closer until you felt his lips on
f*ck it if they talk, f*ck it if they try and get to us
requested by anonymous this was lowkey super fun to write wow
crossover fic in which it’s prom for philip and lukas, and isak and even, new exchange students, are there to see if american proms are as crazy as theyve heard
It was Lukas’ idea to go to prom. Philip was initially wary, making sure to remind Lukas that nearly the whole senior class would be there, and that he was proposing to bring Philip as his date. He asked him if he was okay with that, if he really wanted to go with him, and told him that Lukas could find a girl to go with if he wasn’t okay with it.
But instead of doing what Philip expected, Lukas gave him a big smile, pulled him in for a kiss, and said, “I don’t want to go with anyone else.”
Philip knows that it’s a big step for Lukas, something as large as a school dance. Even tonight, as they walk in the door, he glances over at Lukas, waiting for him to tug away from Philip and run for the door.
But he doesn’t. He simply tightens his grip on Philip’s hands.
“You hear about the new kids? Exchange students?” Lukas asks. Philip shakes his head, scanning the crowd, looking for them.
Lukas nudges him, pointing toward the food table, where a tall boy with light brown hair stands, laughing at a slightly shorter boy as he wipes whipped cream off his nose.